


Tonight I'm (Almost) Fucking You

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Feelings, M/M, intercrural, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:00:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles (almost) go all the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tonight I'm (Almost) Fucking You

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for [this prompt at the Teen Wolf Kink Meme](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/3353.html?thread=3604505#t3604505). Enjoy!

Stiles hums into the kiss, fingertips dancing awkwardly up Derek’s neck and chin to tangle in his hair; they’re a mess of limbs on Stiles’ bed, and like most nights they’ve the house to themselves. Stiles presses harder into the kiss, pushes himself flush against Derek, intent perfectly clear. Derek’s arms wind around Stiles but he pulls from the kiss.

“I’m not going to fuck you, Stiles,” he growls, countering his words with tentative, small bites and sucks along Stiles’ neck, leaving small but bright hickeys. Stiles makes a noise caught between anger and distress. “You’re too young,”

“I’m seventeen!” He snaps and digs the heel of his foot into Derek’s back.

“Too young,” Derek accentuates his statement with harder bites, placed directly on Stiles’ collar bone.

Stiles whines and keens and ruts against his boyfriend. “You’re awful, has anyone ever told you that? There is such thing as being  _too_  much of a gentleman.”

Derek smirks against Stiles’ skin and sits up. “You’re needy, aren’t you?” He straightens on his knees and smirks down at Stiles, feral and smug. “So desperate for it,”

Stiles’ breathing picks up a hair, his chest rising and falling a little faster than before. His hips jerk and he fists his hands in the comforter beneath him. “Please,” falls from his lips.

Derek drops to his hands and knees, too far above Stiles to properly kiss him, and grins. “I’m not fucking you,” he says again, but as he says it he reaches over into the nightstand. Stiles follows his every move with wide, shaking, tense eyes. Derek, alternatively, keeps his gaze locked on Stiles’ face the whole time. His fingers curl around the bottle of lube, half empty from nights Stiles had spent alone, Derek’s face just behind his eyelids.

“Derek, c’mon, hurry up.”

Desperately, Derek wants to drop the bottle, just to teach Stiles a lesson in patience. But no matter how much self restraint he claims to have, he simply can’t help himself around the teenager.

Stiles fumbles his shirt up and off his body, shivering in the chilly air of his bedroom; Derek rests the lube on the bed and peels off his own black t shirt, tossing it to a corner of the room. He plants his hands on Stiles’ hips, admiring the lean strength of Stiles’ figure, the subtle curves of hip bones leading into pelvis. He grins, hungry and eager, at Stiles before trailing his hands to Stiles’ ass, then thighs; he grabs the excess material of Stiles’ pants—and makes a note to buy Stiles’ clothes that fit better—and drags the pant down inch by tantalizing inch.

Stiles does his own share of wiggling, trying to get out of the pants faster. Derek simply lays a hand on Stiles’ stomach to calm him.

“You’re an awful boyfriend, I hate you, I hate you, please don’t stop, please,”

Derek drops Stiles’ pants off the side of the bed and slowly works on his own belt, seductively slow and teasing, purposefully driving Stiles crazier by the minute. “Patience.”

“Yeah, totally, patience. It’s my middle name, didn’t you know that? I’m patient. I’m the Patron Saint of Patience. Totally.”

Derek can’t help his small laugh, because he’s honestly astounded—though not entirely surprised—by the way Stiles manages to make hyperactivity sexy.

Finally, after the teasing becomes too much even for Derek himself, he shucks off his pants and tosses the belt behind him.

Stiles sits up slowly, careful and ready to move at Derek’s request; when Derek doesn’t direct him any particular way, Stiles’ eyes lock on Derek’s half hard cock, and he licks his lips. Derek groans, closing his eyes.

“I’m not fucking you.” He says, though this time it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself rather than Stiles.

Stiles grins and tilts his head, “sure, sure.” He leans up just enough to brush his lips over Derek’s before lying down again. He raises his arms above his head, fingers wrapping tentatively around the posts of the headboard, but his smirk is confident and coy. Derek swallows noisily, his composure that’s usually so thick and overbearing seeping out in waves of uncontrollable hormones.

“Stiles,” it’s a warning growl.

“Fine, fine, you don’t have to fuck me,” Stiles licks his lips, “doesn’t mean we can’t fool around, right?” He spreads his thighs invitingly. “C’mon,” he whines, rolling his hips.

Derek finally falls from his knees to lay himself across the length of Stiles’ body. They’re bodies slot together perfectly, cocks sliding up against each other and dustings of hair over each their bodies tickling the other. Derek groans against Stiles’ mouth, thrusting slowly against him. “You’re a bastard,” he hisses, closing his eyes tight as his thrusts pick up space. “A conniving,” a grunt, “hyperactive,” a thrust, “annoying,” a gentle kiss to Stiles’ forehead, “ridiculously hot,” another thrust, harder and longer so that Derek’s cock actually unaligns with Stiles’ own, and slips down, past Stiles’ balls and near his taint, “bastard.” Derek sits up a bit, and looks down at the disheveled mess that is his boyfriend.

Stiles grins, lazy and blissed out though he hasn’t yet come; he again brings a hand up to runs his fingers through Derek’s hair. “I love it when you lose control,” he murmurs, “when you stop being such a sour wolf and just  _be_.” Stiles lifts his hips again, breath stuttering when the head of Derek’s cock glides along a sensitive part of his thigh. “Wanna try something,” it isn’t a question, and Derek can only watch as Stiles rolls over, legs slightly spread and his entire lower half on display for Derek.

He shuffles up behind him, brushing a finger over Stiles’ hole once, twice, and Stiles drops to his elbows with a moan. “What was it that you wanted to try?” Derek asks, voice rough and heavy, thick in his throat.

Stiles moves a shaky hand to grasp at the lube; his fingertips barely brush it and he shoves it at Derek. “Between—between.” He shudders and continues, “between my thighs,” he says and spreads his legs.

Derek makes a strangled noise, and Stiles laughs softly, mouth pressed against the pillow.

“Saw it in porn once, looked so hot,” Stiles tilts his ass up, brushing against Derek’s dick as he does so. “C’mon. You’re not  _actually_  fucking me, so no harm done.” Stiles peers over his shoulder to look up at Derek. “Please,” he adds.

Derek almost whimpers, barely chokes it back. He grabs the lube again and pours some into his hand to rub along his cock. Grabbing just below his cockhead, he trails precome along Stiles’ ass, and balls, before sliding his cock along side Stiles’. Stiles closes his thighs almost instantly, carefully but tightly encasing Derek’s dick between them.

Stiles presses his head into the pillow harder. “Oh god, this, this is, I don’t even know,” laughter rises and spills out of him, “it feels so good—don’t know why but it’s so good, to be so close to you and so hot and messy and  _god—_!”

Derek growls and raises his clean hand to press into Stiles’ back; he rakes dull fingernails down the skin before latching into Stiles’ neck. Stiles shudders at the feeling, but never tells him to stop. Slowly, easily, delicately so that he doesn’t slip out from between Stiles’ thighs, Derek begins to thrust. Stiles moans, loud and obscene, and Derek finds it comforting on some level that Stiles can’t shut up, even in bed. He keeps his grip firm on the back of Stiles’ neck, using it as leverage to help him thrust and help pull Stiles back against him.

The friction builds fast, and little jolts of pleasure dart up Derek’s spine every time the head of his cock brushes along the prominent vein on the underside of Stiles’ dick. Stiles’ arms are shaking, every muscle in his back and thighs is twitching wildly at the feeling of Derek’s dick sliding quick against his own, at the way that Derek’s neatly trimmed pubic hair brushes his skin in small almost ticklish moments.

“Derek, Derek, fuck, fuck,” the ‘u’ is drawn out and shaking as Stiles rocks with the light force of the motions. “So good, so good; s’not enough but it’s good it feels so good.” Stiles turns his head, cheek pressed against his own arm folded under him. “So greedy, I know, I know you think I’m greedy and desperate, but I want your cock so bad, need it, want more, want you.”

Derek tilts his head back, reveling in the feeling, and the slick sounds and Stiles’ moans echoing in the bedroom. He looks briefly to his hand still covered in a good amount of lube. Derek grins and moves his hips a little faster as he brings his slick thumb to Stiles’ hole.

“You want more?” He asks, “fine.” Derek rubs his thumb around Stiles’ rim slowly, getting it slick with excess lube; he pushes his thumb in slowly, and Stiles’ whole body jerks forward as he throws his head back in a long, drawn out, shrill moan.

“Oh my god,” he rolls his hips against the feeling, trying to get Derek’s thumb deeper. “Yes, yes, thank you, oh god,” Stiles drops his head again as he keeps his thighs tight while still moving with the small thrusts of Derek’s thumb. “Derek, Derek, Derek,”

Derek growls in appreciation, deciding fast that there’s nothing better than his name falling from Stiles’ lips in fits of desperation.

“Not gonna last, gonna come, oh  _fuck_.” Stiles’ whole body goes rigid for all of three seconds before he’s loose and noodly, and Derek can feel Stiles’ come splashing onto him and the bedsheets; the scent hits Derek like a freight train, and he lets out an animalistic growl. His toes curl and he slips his thumb entirely inside Stiles’ as his hips draw tight and unmoving between Stiles’ thighs. His own come covers Stiles’ cock and the front of his thighs.

Stiles sighs in content, “eeping” when Derek flips him over. Derek runs his fingers through their mingling come with a pleased expression. Stiles laughs, wordlessly writing it off as a weird wolf thing, and allowing Derek to do whatever he liked.

A few minutes pass and Derek reaches for a corner of the bedsheet to wipe up their mess before settling down beside Stiles. Stiles shifts easily into being the little spoon as he draws Derek’s arms around his waist. Stiles leans back, resting his head in the crook of Derek’s neck and shoulder. “Mm,” he hums and kisses idly at Derek’s salty skin. “Thank you.”

Derek inhales deeply, nudging his nose along Stiles’ jugular. “Thank you,” he replies, oddly tender. He feels Stiles grin, cheeks stretching so wide it has to hurt in some way. Stiles sighs, wiggling once more to get comfortable, and they both drift off to sleep.


End file.
